


And All That Jazz...

by appleslovetea



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Akihito's POV, Dracaena setting, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:29:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23612332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleslovetea/pseuds/appleslovetea
Summary: Akihito is pissed-off and up for some vengeance...
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito
Comments: 9
Kudos: 216





	And All That Jazz...

**Author's Note:**

> Happy readings! :) Stay safe! ;)

You confess you took up the stranger's offer to buy you a drink just to spite _him_.

 _He_ is spying on you right now, of course.

You don't really need to see _him_ to be certain of it. You've felt _his_ gaze on the back of your neck ever since you've walked inside the club.

In fact, it wouldn't surprise you if you were to learn that every single surveillance camera within Dracaena is at this very moment zoomed in on you and your last minute 'date', scrutinizing your every move, whilst the two of you navigate round the tables towards the bar area.

Upbeat jazz music reaches you from the nearby stage, where a live quartet band is putting on a show. 

You'd be lying if you were to say you're a jazz fan. At best, you tolerate the music. But spending the past year or so living under the same roof with a true jazz connoisseur has at least taught you to recognize talent where it is due.

You nod discretely at the saxophonist, when the latter finishes his solo and his eyes accidentally fall on you from across the room; your very own silent acknowledgment to his art form.

"Do you like jazz?"

The stranger's voice is as deep and as smooth as the sound that came out of the sax just now.

You turn your face toward him, propping your elbows on the bar counter as you do so. "On occasion, I guess."

It's not a _complete_ lie. Jazz music does tend to trigger fond memories for you. After all, you've had some pretty mind-blowing sex whilst _his_ jazz records were playing in the background. 

You might not have enjoyed the music at the time, but you sure as hell enjoyed the sex!

Your mind loses itself down memory lane for a few seconds and you smile mysteriously, causing the stranger's lips to curl upwards too.

He has a nice smile; kind-looking, too.

"What are you having?" He asks you.

"Mm...you pick."

He smiles again, and your gaze stays on him as he calls out to the bartender, placing an order for two fancy named cocktails you've never heard of before.

He's good-looking, this stranger. Very much so. 

Tall, lean, perfectly groomed; his tailored suit doing an impeccable job at displaying the outline of his taut biceps, without making him look bulky or disproportionate.

Sure, overall he doesn't look to be as well-built as _he_ does, but a part of you still thinks that _he_ is carved out of pure marble, rather than flesh and bones. It's unfair to compare any mere mortal to _him_.

Now the mortal standing next to you, on the other hand, is someone you can critically assess and point flaws at, without feeling as though you are somehow offending the Gods' handiwork.

Something about this stranger strikes you as odd though; somewhat out of place against the rest of Dracaena's clientele.

It takes a sudden flash of light from the stage that brightens up the entire room for a few seconds, for you to click the missing piece into the puzzle.

He's blond! 

And not 'fake' blond, like you are. That much is evident. You've become an expert on hair dye over the years, after all. You can spot a dyed head a mile away. 

"Where are you from?" You ask him with interest, tilting your head slightly to the side so you can take a better look at his face; his Asian shaped eyes suddenly look exotic to you.

He stops midway of handing you your drink, and blushes. "Was it my poor Japanese what gave me away?"

You take the drink from his hand whilst shaking your head. "No, not at all. Your Japanese is perfect." You reply truthfully, feeling even more intrigued now.

"I'm German. Well, _half_ -German. My mother is Japanese." He laughs, as if he finds himself to be an unusual mix, and as he does so you notice for the first time the little dimple on his cheek. "My name's Schneider, Ryuichi Schneider. Weird name combo, I know." He laughs again. "...What's yours?"

"Takaba. Akihito Takaba." 

You like his laughter. You find it to be contagious.

He extends his hand towards you and you take it, shaking it western-style. "Well, nice to meet you, Akihito Takaba. Would you care to sit down for a bit?"

You nod quietly, forgetting for a moment that you're pissed-off at another Ryuichi, and that you came to Dracaena tonight, wearing the tailored suit that _he_ bought you for your birthday, with the intent of shamelessly flirting with as many men and women your scruples and _his_ finite patience would allow.

As you walk behind Schneider towards a relatively secluded area of the club, you notice out of the corner of your eye, that impassive bulldozer that is Suoh Kazumi whispering into the inside of his wrist, while he follows the two of you with an ominous gaze.

You grin inwardly. Perhaps flirting with just _one_ guy might be enough to ruin _his_ night. 

You spend the next hour chitchatting away about anything and everything, from mere trivialities to the more philosophical aspects of life.

You find out Schneider is 29, and a banker, and rapidly rising up the professional ladder at his foreign multinational company, which is currently planning on opening an office in Tokyo, and thus sent him overseas to scout for potential office locations, capitalizing on his Japanese fluency.

The free lesson on the current state of the capital markets bores you a bit, but then you unexpectedly find out he's an amateur photographer and you squeak inwardly with delight.

From then on, the conversation turns personal, with Schneider answering all of your questions on how it felt like to grow up mixed race in Europe, and him wanting to know how your own childhood was like in Yokohama; coincidentally, the birth place of his mother.

It takes you about five minutes to figure out Schneider's bi, and another five to figure out he's into you. 

He doesn't seem to have a lot of experience with guys though, which you don't find to be all that surprising as you soon learn that he has recently finished an eight year-long relationship with his former girlfriend.

"So...Hm...are you seeing anyone at the moment?" He asks you expectantly. 

Ah, come on Akihito, he was bound to ask you that. Don't pretend the question has caught you by surprise! 

You give him an apologetic smile.

"Yeah,... I am, actually."

He looks truly disappointed by your answer, and for the first time tonight you feel like a rascal.

"It's... complicated." You quickly add, as if that will somehow atone for your sin.

"Oh, how so?"

You swirl around the liquid on your cocktail glass, feeling the back of your neck begin to flush, and wonder for a second if those surveillance cameras have audio recording capabilities too.

"He is... powerful, well-connected... I'm not." You smile sheepishly.

"Oh? What does he do for a living?" Schneider asks; and you can tell from his tone that he's genuinely interested in knowing.

" _Well, you know, he's just your average underworld crime lord, who destroys anyone who comes between him and his goals_."

"He's a business mogul." Is what you say out loud instead, taking a sip from your drink.

"Older than you?"

You nod. "Way older... He's 35. Almost 36, actually."

The revelation causes Schneider to whistle under his breath. "That's quite the age gap! It probably isn't easy to manage that much of an age difference in a relationship, huh?"

You snicker in reply. "Tell me about it! He treats me like a kid most times. Whatever I do, I'm always the brat in the relationship, and he's the adult. We're always fighting because of that."

"...Is that what happened today?"

"Huh?"

"You look somewhat... pissed-off." Schneider laughs when you blush. "I guess I've hit the jackpot!"

You end up laughing a little too.

"Want to talk about it? I've been told I'm a good listener."

You stare across the table at Schneider's face, which looks genuinely interested and concerned, and feel as though he's wasted as a banker. He has a psychologist's soul.

The two of you spend the next hour or so sharing relationship stories and advice with one another (it turns out his first same-sex experience was with a much older man too), and by the end of the night you feel as though you have made a new friend, and one in whom you can confide stuff that you can't really touch upon with neither Takato nor Kou.

You exchange contact details, and he promises to get in touch with you for a coffee and a chat before he flies back to Germany at the end of the week.

He even offers to share a cab ride with you tonight, but you shake your head, claiming that you want to stay behind and watch the rest of the band's performance. Their last few songs are always experimental blues, and those you actually do enjoy listening to immensely.

You eventually watch Schneider's retreating form, as it disappears towards Dracaena's exit.

You truly hope you'll get to see him again...

But wait, you don't want people to get the wrong idea! It's not like you have any sort of romantic feelings toward him. You're not gay, after all. Nor are you bi... At least, you don't consider yourself as such.

The fact that _he_ is a guy and you're in love with _him_? Well, you attribute that to a glitch in the Universe. You suppose it's rare, but it can happen to any straight person. 

"Takaba Akihito."

A familiar voice soon interrupts your musings. 

"Oh, hey Kirishima-san. What's up?" 

You don't need to look over your shoulder to know the other man is scowling at you. You know just how much your informal greetings tend to infuriate him. "Follow me, please. The boss wants to see you." He adds dryly.

" _And don't you just love it that he sent_ you _of all people to fetch me?_ "

You're wise enough not to voice this out loud, of course. But you'd be lying if you were to say that you don't find Kirishima Key's demeanour utterly amusing.

Most times he acts toward you just like a begrudged babysitter would towards their unmanageable charge.

You calmly follow Kirishima past Suoh Kazumi (who you secretly suspect hasn't blinked at all yet tonight), through the discreet 'Personnel Only' door located next to the stage, and down the long blue velvet-wallpapered corridor that leads toward the Management quarters.

Kirishima knocks twice at a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor, and steps aside so that you can walk past him. 

"I should warn you, he's angry." He says so reproachfully, as if it's all your fault, _yet_ at the same time he manages to deliver the news in the utmost professional manner; with the same tone you suspect he'd use to remind you your late in submitting your tax returns.

You still haven't figured out how he manages to pull off that tone successfully. It doesn't sound human.

"Oh, he's angry, is he?" You try mimicking the tone in question, and smile proudly at Kirishima, who you have a feeling is trying hard not to roll his eyes at you at the moment.

He opens one of the doors for you, and you sneak past him into the large office without uttering another word; hearing him close the door behind you with a soft click a moment afterwards.

Nothing but silence greets you inside the office; the large soundproof doors muffling even the noise caused by Kirishima's retreating steps down the corridor.

You soon turn your attention towards the only other occupant of the room.

 _He_ is sitting behind the massive sandalwood desk made especially for him by a famous furniture designer; one of his many expensive office furnishings.

Personally, you don't really care for the desk. Its intricate carvings, albeit beautiful-looking, tend to leave imprints on your skin every time you have sex with him on top of it.

His expression, as he regards you from across the office room, can best be described as the epitome of self-collectedness, and for a brief moment you wonder whether your little 'performance' tonight was nothing but a waste of time. 

But then you notice the surveillance monitors mounted on the wall behind the desk, one of which is still showing real-time footage of the table you and Schneider sat at.

" _Yes! He's seen everything_." You rejoice inwardly.

Outwardly though, you force yourself not to grin; adopting instead an impassive expression that rivals his own. (You've picked up way more than just an enhanced musical ear from your time living with him, after all!) 

And then, it happens.

A fiery flicker crosses his eyes momentarily, and you know now that Kirishima was right. He _is_ angry. Very, _very_ much so...and, God help you, you love it!

You know you shouldn't really, but you love to rile him up. If he only knew how much that fire in his eyes turns you on!

It hasn't escaped your notice that you have yet to say a word to each other. Up until this point your eyes have been the ones doing all the talking.

You relax your back against the office doors, and put an end to the silence yourself.

"What?" You ask; your tone somewhere between petulance and innocence.

A small gust of air escapes his mouth at your question. 

"Come here, Akihito."

You wouldn't call his tone 'demanding', but his predatory gaze leaves little room to misinterpret the intention behind his words. 

You stay right where you are though, and your unapologetic defiance ends up causing the corners of his lips to curl upwards. "No?" He asks, arching an eyebrow at you. 

You shake your head, reinforcing your stance. 

" _You_ come here."

For a moment it feels as though time freezes between the two of you. 

You have a feeling that if Kirishima Key had heard you just now, he would be gasping in horror at your blatant display of insolence towards his boss, but _he_ seems amused by it.

In fact, he gets up from behind the desk, slowly, buttoning up his designer suit jacket as he calmly walks around it; all of the 1.85m and 78kg that make up the man he is, now sauntering towards you.

You're aware that most people don't understand your relationship; the constant give and take; the need to continuously push up against each other's boundaries. Then again, most people have no idea what it's like to date a powerful crime lord.

He stops in front of you, supporting his forearm on the door above your head, and leans down just enough so that his face hovers a little above your own.

"I enjoyed your little 'show' tonight. Trying to make me feel jealous?"

You look him straight in the eyes; those dark, magnetic orbs you can never lie to, and smile conceitedly.

He smiles back at you. "Congratulations." He says. "It worked." 

Your hand wraps itself around his tie, pulling it towards you, and him along with it.

Soon his lips are muffling the sound of your chuckles; his hands pulling your body away from the door and into his warm embrace.

In less than three minutes, neither of you will remember anymore what it was that you fought about this morning...

**THE END**


End file.
